


Grand Finale

by DarkShadeless



Series: Definitely not OSHA compliant [3]
Category: Among Us (Video Game), Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Betrayal, Character Death, Dubious Morality, Murder, in true Among Us style, kinda related, things coming to a head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28753731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Things are coming to a head but they are well prepared. There's nothing for Theron to be worried about... is there?
Series: Definitely not OSHA compliant [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103309
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	Grand Finale

It was always going to come down to this. They knew it from the start. Their mission is simple: extract as much information as they can, hinder their targets expansionary efforts… and kill as many as they can take out without getting caught.

Space exploration is dangerous for humans. First Contact with Theron and Timmns species has only made it more so. Casualties are expected. The ideal outcome is to keep things above board enough to get away with what they’ve done, so they can return and be reintegrated into a new crew. If they really luck out their survival might get them a ticket to a more stationary position, something that can get them more intel and more opportunities for sabotage.

Few of their own have managed to get into Kaasi HQ. Fewer have made a real dent in Empire Industries before they were found and executed.

But that’s a problem for the future. They have enough of their own.

Technically their mission is on track. _Technically_ , they are doing fine. Technically there is no reason for Theron to feel like his disguise will vibrate apart at the edges with how dearly he wants to wring his tentacles.

There are just two humans left. With his last victim, Captain Black, Overseer Tremel, Theron has struck gold too. He cornered the man in Admin and had him to himself for a few hours, while the rest of the crew was off-shift.

They have all the intel they could want, now.

Which leaves them here. Four crew members. Two humans, not that they know it. One chance to get away clean, to come back to HQ limping but as survivors.

 _If_ they can convince one of their remaining coworkers the other is the alien that murdered all their friends.

Theron knows how he wants this to go. Badly. He… likes Sar. He’s abrasive, brash, doesn’t take any shit and… he’s never boring. A hard worker, even if he works for the wrong side. Steady. Loyal. He was the only member of the crew that opened up to them in his own way and though that was a mistake, by all accounts… just looking at him makes Theron feel a little warm inside.

Usually. Not today.

Four crew members left. They’re spaced out evenly around the conference table. Suspicion hangs in the air like leaden smog.

Across from Theron, Timmns is entirely inscrutable. Theron is almost sure he feels the same, that he wants it to be Sar but… how sure can he be?

They did talk about it. They did. They kept Harkun for last, on purpose, because they knew-

“It’s you. I _know_ it’s you,” Blue hisses, a tremor in his voice only a predator could possibly detect. Someone like Theron. Harkun is at the breaking point but against all expectation he hasn’t snapped yet.

His eyes are fixed firmly on Sar’s orange form. Sar doesn’t react to the accusation, not visibly at least. “Are you still harping on about that?” he answers, softly. _Too_ soft. Too calm. He should be angry. Sar is always angry. He’s snappish even when he is happy.

Theron’s real tongue twitches where it is curled in his belly. Under the table, Timms hand balls to a fist.

They’ve been careful. They gave Harkun enough rope to hang himself on. There’s enough evidence, enough uncertainty. It _could_ be him. They just need to do this right. Theron needs to find the right opening, the right argument, to convince Sar it was Harkun all along and it should be _easy_.

They hate each other. Not a meeting goes by where Harkun doesn’t accuse Sar of being the imposter hiding in their crew and murdering them, slowly, one at a time. Really, if he wasn’t such a convenient scape goat Theron would have killed him first.

A few crew members have already gone out the airlock, over the last few weeks. Enough to make the case that even if there was more than one monster on this ship, the rest are already dead.

Just this last meeting. This is it. They have to convince Sar… because if they don’t they’ll have to kill him too. Discovery is mission failure. Mission failure must be avoided at all cost.

All cost. Any at all.

Theron’s tongue cramps.

Can he do it? If he has to, can he do it? If he can’t, can Timmns? Can… can he watch Timmns do it?

What if he can’t?

What if Timmns can’t watch _him_?

What if-

Is this how the humans felt when it was up in the air who would turn against who?

In sharp contrast to Theron’s own circling thoughts and the tension in the air, Sar lounges in his chair. Unlike the rest of them he can’t seem to be bothered to sit up straight. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

Harkun breathes so harshly it’s audible through the filters of his helmet. “You’re the only one who needed one damned alibi after the next. You’re the _only one_ and if Green hadn’t shoved them up your ass Tremel could still be alive!”

Timmns fist tightens. In the middle of his stomach the faintest impression of a tooth-edged rip appears and Theron’s own mouth twists. His _real_ mouth, that is. ‘ _What are you doing?_ ’

He can’t. He can’t break character now! They are so close-

“Could he?” He waits for Sar to say more but he doesn’t. He just keeps looking at Harkun. _Something_ passes between them, though. Harkun’s tense posture goes ramrod straight. He turns his helmet toward Timmns, not much, just a bit, just the tiniest bit, as if he can’t make himself turn further. The tremor in his hands grows.

Through the glass of Sar’s helmet Theron can make out a twitch where his lips are. He can’t for the life of him pin down what it means.

Then everything goes to hell.

Harkun shoots up out of his chair, service weapon in hand. _Where the fuck did he get that_ , Theron locked them all up after Yellow offed White in a bout of paranoia. He was the only one allowed to carry, after that. On the captain’s orders, even. Funny how these things go. They were much easier prey unarmed.

Theron shoves to his feet too, ready to throw himself at Sar, at Harkun, between the two, not that he can make it without dropping his shape and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t- Harkun brings the blaster up, hand still shaking too much for any kind of weapon safety and points it squarely at Timmns.

A traitorous surge of relief washes through Theron’s core and lasts him less than a heartbeat because the faint line on Timmns stomach tears open, revealing rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth. He snarls, tongue lashing out of his stomach cavity. Harkun makes a choked sound, his finger presses down on the trigger.

A shot rings out.

Theron flinches from the sound, from the light of the muzzle flare and Force, he can’t let Harkun kill his partner. He has to do something but if Sar sees him help a _monster_ -

Harkun’s weapon drops from nerveless fingers. He stumbles back. There’s a charred hole in his deep blue suit, right over the center of his chest. The smell of cooked flesh almost turns Theron’s stomach.

What-? Had he-? But his hands are empty. Numbly he pats his belt down for his weapon.

It’s gone.

When had it- where did it-

Slowly, very slowly Theron looks at the one person who hasn’t moved an inch. Sar is still slouched in his chair, posture lose. The red blaster in his hand is steaming gently. When he meets his eyes, shocked mute, Sar tips his helmet toward him. “You really need to stop losing your stuff, Shan.”

Silence falls. Harkun finally tips over and goes down with the finality of a sealing airlock.

Theron glances at Timmns, who hasn’t fixed his disguise and _what is the point, he’s right there, out in the open_ -

Sar huffs out a sound he can’t identify. “He was the imposter.” Their human gestures at their deceased crew mate with the muzzle of his stolen weapon. “Right?”


End file.
